Padme's Author note: Warning, there is a graphic scene at the end of this chapter that's probably not suitable to readers under fifteen. Although it is not bad enough to warrant an M rating, it is a tad bit risque for a younger audience.

Thanks to all the reviews we've received, they make our writing much better. I hope the wait was worth it. Here's chapter Seven.

Christine and the Phantom

Chapter Seven: Hegira

Christine ran. She flew down the grand staircase, past the castle doors, and out the gates, not caring where she was headed as long as she escaped the horror behind her. It wasn't just the horrible deformity of his face that frightened her, it was the incredible mixture of disgust, hatred, and budding violence in his expression that caused her to seek immediate escape. She plunged into the woods blindly, praying that somehow she would find herself safe at home in the morning.

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Erik stared at where the viper had dropped his mask. He would never forget the fear that had graced her face, the scream of horror forever frozen on her lips. He didn't even look up when he heard the outer gate creak open and clang loudly shut.

Slowly, he picked up the mask and replaced the cool leather on his face. He looked out the window, spotting the frenzied form that had so easily stripped away his protection against the world. A thick fog was creeping in, enveloping Christine, and he knew that he would never see her again.

"Sir?" Madame Giry stood in the doorway dressed in a robe. Behind her, Erik saw the silhouette of Nadir, wrapped in his robe as well, a skewed nightcap on his head. "We heard the gate open. Meg's gone to check on Christine."

Erik smiled ruefully at his servants, "She's gone," he whispered to himself.

"She's gone!" Meg's voice heralded her arrival. "What have you done to her?" Madame Giry berated her daughter for the accusation.

"Your daughter's correct, Madame. I've scared the girl away. She managed to remove my mask and…" Erik choked on those last words. Christine would never return, never love the man behind the mask.

Nadir reprimanded him harshly, "Go after her, you fool! It's still early, she could not have gotten far." He gestured out the door wildly with his hand.

Erik laughed cruelly, "And do what, exactly? Drag her back here unwillingly? Yes, what a brilliant way to win her love."

"There are worse dangers in that forest than you, Erik." Meg whispered fearfully. As if on cue, a wolf howled nearby.

Madame Giry spoke again, hoping her argument would send Erik running after Christine. "The townspeople are scared of the forest, but not murderers or thieves. If one of them finds Christine, you will never see her again." Her voice held a touch of finality that chilled Erik.

The color drained from his face as recognition dawned, "My God, you're right." He felt around in his coat pocket briefly, satisfied when his hand felt the object of his desire. Without another word, he fled the study and rushed to the stables.

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Christine had torn the soft soles of her silk slippers to shreds on the branches and rocks that littered the forest floor. Deep in the forest darkness, she tripped, falling on her still-healing leg. She clutched her aching limb and winced. The cause for her fall, a wooden flute, seemed so incongruous in the wilderness that she nearly laughed. Why, by God's good name, was there a flute in the middle of the forest? So many things hadn't made sense this past week, she just accepted it as it was.

Christine had not thought about where she was going during her flight from Castle Nuit; all she had known was the urge to flee from the man in front of her. Christine finally admitted the inevitable: she was lost. A fog had come upon the forest suddenly, veiling everything in a web of indistinguishable gray.

Nearby, a twig cracked. Christine, looking for some means of protection, stood and picked up the heavy instrument a few feet away. Grasping it in her hand, Christine straightened and cried out in false bravery, "Who's there?" Her fingers tightened their hold near the instrument's mouthpiece.

Another branch broke, but Christine did not have time to react before an arm encircled her neck, pulling her roughly against a man's body. His other hand took the flute and flung it a few feet away from them.

"My aren't you a pretty little thing." His breath smelt of whiskey and his voice made Christine's ears bleed.

Christine gasped for air, "What do you want?" She struggled against the stranger's wandering hand.

The man chuckled behind her, biting her bare shoulder with a sudden viciousness. He buried his head in her neck and breathed in deeply. Christine took advantage of the moment and thrust her elbow back as hard as she could.

Momentarily stunned, the man let go, and Christine ran, but he was too quick. She felt the breath go out of her as he tackled her, throwing her to the forest floor. The flute was a scant few inches awayཀ He roughly pulled her so she lay on her back and only then did she recognize her attacker's face. A greasy, unkempt man, Joseph Buquet was a notorious robber whose face was plastered on wanted ads throughout the village.

"Someone help me, pleaseཀ" She cried out madly.

"No one can hear you out here."

Christine squirmed as much as she could. She twisted and reached, her fingers barely managing to grasp the flute. Wildly, she swung it at Buquet's head, squarely hitting him on the side of his face. He roughly tore it from her grasp and tossed it behind them.

"You'll pay for that, bitchཀ" Blood dripped down from a cut on his cheek. He used one hand to pin her arms above her head and the other to rip her shift down its seams.

"Erik. . ." she whimpered, half hoping the manor lord would magically appear. Buquet straddled the girl, reaching for his belt. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the man above her.

And then his weight was gone. Sobbing in relief, Christine rolled to her side to sit-up and opened her eyes.

Buquet, his eyes bulging with broken blood vessels, hanged from the tree she had rested beneath only a moment before. Her eyes followed the line of the dead man's body to the familiar figure standing beside him, still clutching one end of the rope that had killed her assailant. His face was clouded with anger and revulsion, his gaze moving between the dead man and her torn chemise.

Instantly, Christine cowered, covering her face with her hands and weeping pitifully. He was still angry with herཀ He hated her for what she had done to him, and now he probably viewed her as some harlot.

She was surprised when she felt his gloved-hand touch her back. "Christine..." She leaned against him, needing the solid support he offered.

"Erik, take me home. Take me back to the castle." Gently, the man covered her with his cloak and carried her to where Beast stood patiently. The sun's rays finally began to break through the morning mist.

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Review Please!

Jazzetry's Author's Note: So we've just submitted chapter 6, I'm revising chapter 7, and Padme's email keeps getting new reviews every five minutes. just want to tell you all that your response has been greatly appreciated and helpful. Thanks!